


This Is Not My Life

by creativelydifferentlove



Category: Dean Winchester - Fandom, Jensen Ackles - Fandom, SPN, Supernatural
Genre: AU, F/M, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-01-24 12:03:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18571087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativelydifferentlove/pseuds/creativelydifferentlove
Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Dean finds himself waking in a whole new world with strangers who wear the faces of his family and friends. To Jensen, Supernatural is the show that has changed his life; he never anticipated how much more it has in store for him.





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a little something I’ve been thinking about for a while but @bamby0304’s writing challenge meant it had to happen. I think this is only going to be a two part, maybe three if it needs it. A huge thank you to @moonlitskinwalker for editing and checking over. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Fuck, witches are the worst.

That thought was running on a loop through Dean’s mind as he dodged various knives and weapons hurtling towards him courtesy of the Winchesters latest hunt; a witch. Apparently not just any witch but one who could do more than just read from a book and pull together a few hex bags. No this witch had a variety of spells at her disposal and she kept ‘em coming. 

Dean really fucking hated witches.

“Oh come on Winchester, don’t be so shy.” The witch cooed, heels clicking against the wood as she paced the room. 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Yeah, that’s me. Shy.”

The witch chuckled, pace still maddeningly calm, “I should be the angry one. I mean, you did kill my friend.”

He glanced to his right where the so called ‘friend’ was, blood oozing from his forehead. That witch had been easy to take down, a newbie. His ‘friends’ had obviously never warned him about witch bullets before, hadn’t even ducked when he’d taken aim. 

That’s what he got for trusting a witch.

“Y’know how it goes.” Dean called, shifting his footing. “Occupational hazard.”

“I like you. Everyone always says that you’re the…nicer Winchester.” She hummed. “Tell me, Dean, why don’t we work this so everyone comes out a winner?”

“How about you with a new addition to your face?”

“No, no.” She clucked her tongue, “I was thinking something more along the lines where you get something you want…”

“And you what? Just get to walk outta here?” Dean surmised.

He could see the witch’s smile in the rusted reflection of an old vase, “Exactly. So, what is it you want? Money? Power?”

“Not exactly helping your case here.” He retorted coolly.

“What about love? Hmm? Does Dean Winchester have someone he loves or wants to love?” When he didn’t answer, the witch clapped her hands gleefully, “Oh, I like this! A Hunter who wants love. How sweet.”

Dean clenched his jaw, no longer willing to wait. The witch was slowly circling the basement and he was running out of options. He stepped into view rapidly firing his gun but she was prepared. Anticipating his attack, the witch dodged the bullets and returned his attack with equal fervour. Unable to return to his hide out, Dean darted through the room as the knives kept coming.

“This doesn’t have to go like this, Dean,” The witch continued cheerily, knives thudding along the wall barely missing his head, “I’m open to negotiation. It’d be a shame to have to kill such a pretty face.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “You’d be surprised by how many times I’ve heard that before.”

She laughed, “So whaddya say, Deanie boy. Want some true love in your life?”

“Will you two hurry the fuck up?” He bellowed ignoring the witch. Footsteps came thundering down the stairs and Dean groaned at the sight of Y/N and not Sam. “Seriously?”

Y/N cast him a filthy look, hands raised with a gun, “I could just go back upstairs and let her finish you!”

The witch watched the exchange with interest, a sinister smile crossing her face that neither Hunter noticed. 

Dean’s face twisted into a mocking look, “I’ll probably have a better chance of …”

“Dean, get down!” Y/N screamed.

Dean felt something cold hit him square in the chest and then he went tumbling back, crashing through shelves. He grunted at the impact, vaguely aware of a gun being discharged repeatedly but more concerned with the tingling sensation covering his whole body. Hastily he patted himself down feeling for any blood or - dare he even think it - liquid that shouldn’t be there. Relieved, he found none but that didn’t explain the sensations rippling across him. It didn’t matter that they came to a sudden halt, the icy tingle warming over his heart, before he went back to normal. He’d been at this long enough to know that witches didn’t cast spells that had no effect. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N hurried to his side, eyes frantically scanning him for any injury.

He glared up at her, “Yeah, no thanks to you. What the hell took you so long?”

She straightened all worry fading from her eyes replaced by one he couldn’t distinguish. “So sorry we had another three in the coven to deal with. I’ll be sure to ask them to stop fighting and just let me kill them next time so I can go help an overgrown child with their one friend.”

“That was two, thank you very much.” He nodded toward the dead witch behind her, climbing stiffly to his feet. “It’s not like anyone asked you to tag along, sweetheart.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, “Gee, I’ll remember that the next time I have to come save your ass.”

“Oh please,” he scoffed, “it’s got nothing on how many times I’ve had to save your ass.”

“You two done?” Sam called from the top of the staircase. His arms were crossed and face set in clear disappointment. 

Dean glanced back at Y/N, jaw clenched. She was glaring just as fiercely as he, eyes burning prettily with the adrenaline post-fight and anger that he stirred up in her. Her lips were pressed into a thin, tight line and still he wanted nothing more than to see if she tasted as hot as her temper. 

“Yeah, we’re done.” He muttered, pushing passed her and climbing the stairs without looking back, burying the traitorous thought back away in his mind.

Sam shook his head as he passed, though Dean could see his eyes scouring across to make sure he was unharmed just as he was doing to his younger brother. Apart from a few minor scrapes, everyone was relatively unharmed. It was a better outcome than any of them had dared hope for; witches played almost as dirty as demons and they had just as many ugly tricks to use in a fight. 

“Did you hear what she said?” Y/N asked, following the brothers back through the quaint little house. 

Dean ignored her, fishing his keys out from his pocket. “Wanna stop by and pick up some grub. I’m starving.”

“What’s she talking about?” Sam asked, automatically concerned and pulling him to a stop. “Dean, were you hit with a spell?”

Dean rolled his head with an aggravated sigh and stopped by the door. “Yes I was hit. No I don’t know with what. They don’t exactly provide translations for their curses. As you can see,” he waved down his body, “I’m fine. Now, can we go before the cops turn up? We can worry if I suddenly grow a tail or something.”

Sam pursed his lips but dropped it with a shake of his head. He knew there was no point in pressing Dean, not when he was like this. It would just turn into an argument that Y/N would definitely put herself in the middle of and then those two would end up in a shouting match that would have the whole neighbourhood coming out to watch. 

The drive back to the bunker was silent. Dean was glaring out the windscreen if only to stop himself from glaring back at Y/N. She was sprawled out on the backseat of the Impala, dirty shoes dangerously close to the leather upholstery. There was a small smirk on her face as she flicked through her phone that told him she knew exactly how on edge it made him. Her feet tapped idly to the music, flecks of dirt dropping to the floor. He ground his teeth, refusing to take the bait. 

The moment the car was parked Dean was out, food in one hand and bag in the other. He grunted at Sam and all but slammed the door to his room. Only then did he relax, the tension melting away. He pressed his forehead against the wooden door listening, smiling to himself at the sound of her soft footsteps passing. God, she drove him insane, picked at every little piece of his self control and then threw it all in his face. She had more bite to her than a vampire and damn if it didn’t keep him on his toes like no one else ever had.

Those were dangerous thoughts. Reluctantly, Dean pulled away from the door and kicked off his shoes. The night was spent in the peaceful isolation of his room, eating a burger and sipping on beer. If he appeared out in the library and Y/N was there with Sam, it would just put him back on edge.

Eventually, Dean fell asleep, sprawled out over his bed. He went to sleep fully expecting to be woken by a nightmare like nearly every other morning. There was even the possibility that Sam would wake him with a pillow to the head and threat of a smoothie.

He did not expect to wake to the sound of a bell and a scattering of applause. 

Jerking upright, Dean glanced around his room and felt his heart stop. The walls where his dresser sat were gone and a small audience were gathered in its place staring at him. A microphone dangled above him, cameras staged across the room. Someone was calling out numbers and names that made no sense to him whatsoever. None of it made any sense to Dean. Who the hell were all these people and what the hell had happened to his room?

“Jay, fantastic as always but, look, we were talking and…” A man appeared at his side and started prattling too quickly for Dean to make any sense of it. He was still stuck on the name.

Dean held up a hand, cutting the guy off unapologetically, “Who the fuck is Jay? What are you even talking about?”

His eyes scanned through the crowd of people and relief washed over him. He ignored the spluttering man and strode through the mock set up of his bedroom towards the figure he saw at the back. There was no mistaking that mop of hair.

Dean tugged Sam’s arm and turned him away from the confused onlookers, “Dude, something is going on. What the fuck is this place? What the hell have they done to my room? I swear to God if this is another fucking angel dicking around I’m gonna…”

“Whoa, whoa, Jay stop.” Sam-not-Sam frowned, eyes squinting down at him, “You alright man? I mean, I know we joke around but… you weren’t hit that hard, were you?”

“What are you talking about? C’mon Sam, quit screwing around.” Dean said harshly.

Concern shined down on him, “Jensen, what’s going on? Is this-are you just playing right now, man? You okay?”

He stared up at the face of his younger brother, a knot forming in his throat at the painful realisation that this wasn’t his brother staring back at him. It looked like Sam, had his voice but the mannerisms weren’t quite right. Sam never stood that tall, looked that at ease with his surroundings. They’d been through too much to let their guard down and this guy wasn’t even flinching at the odd bang echoing from down the hall that was his fake bedroom. This wasn’t his home. Dean wasn’t sure what was happening but he knew it wasn’t right.

He forced a smile on his face and awkwardly slapped the man’s arm, “Ha ha, yeah-yeah, I’m just-just kidding around. You know me.” He shrugged, the movement over exaggerated, “So I’m gonna…go. Yeah - go and do…stuff…elsewhere.”

The Sam look-alike protested but Dean wasn’t sticking around to listen. He had to get out. He had to figure out what the hell was going on. He was wracking his brain trying to think of what latest Angel drama was going on upstairs that might’ve triggered… this, but nothing was coming to mind. For once the Angels were trouble free and that was not helping at all right now. That meant it was another creature doing this to him but the only hunt they’d been on recently had been…

“Fucking witches.” Dean cursed coming to a stop and slapping a hand to his forehead. 

Dean was never going to live this down. Y/N had been right, for once, and he knew she wouldn’t let him live it down. 

He sucked in a deep breath and forced his frantic mind to still. Letting his emotions get the best of him wouldn’t help right now. He could panic later. Right now, he needed to figure where the hell he was and who this ‘Jensen’ guy was. 

Dean’s feet started moving on their own accord but it was better than standing and gaping like an idiot. He followed the footpath, eyes scouring for any sign of exit and practically lit up when they landed upon a row of neatly parked trailers. His eyes flickered across the names ‘JARED’ and ‘MISHA’ and paused on ‘JENSEN’. Hadn’t that been what his Sam look-alike had called him? Jensen? Hesitantly, Dean pushed open the door and climbed inside. He whistled lowly, impressed by the comfort provided by the trailer. 

“This guy must be good if he gets all this.” He mused aloud.

He was checking through the rooms, eyes scanning across the polished wood of the interior. Just as he finished taking in the decent bathroom (for a trailer), he caught sight of himself in the mirror and froze. Subconsciously, he stepped closer, eyes wide with disbelief.

“What the hell?”

Dean usually stayed at a respectable distance from the mirror unless he needed to concentrate while shaving. Now though he was so close his breath was fogging the mirror, eyes squinting at his reflection. There were clear traces of make up on his face and he grimaced at the greasy residue it left on his fingers. He blindly reached for the tap cupping his hands together and splashing the cool water over his face, rubbing at his skin until the water overpowered the make up. It took several goes before he was somewhat happy and knew he’d be scrubbing at his skin later. 

Up close, though, he noticed something else strange.

The collar of his shirt was askew from all the scrubbing. Now Dean was used to seeing his anti-possession mark. That was nothing new. It had never smudged before, though. Hoping he was wrong, he swiped a finger across the outline, stomach plummeting when the ink transferred onto his finger. Even though he knew what it meant, Dean still scrubbed at his chest until the skin was red and the tattoo had a quarter missing from it.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed loudly, head lowered. He slammed his hands against the counter and spun around, shoulders tense. He paced along the short length of the trailer, hand running through his hair as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. “Think, think, think.”

“You know talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, right?”

Dean swore and turned around, heart hammering and promptly forgot what he was so angry about in the first place. Y/N was staring up at him, amused, a lightness in her eyes that he wasn’t used to seeing. Not to mention she was close, closer than normal and not because she was trying to hit him. Dean flinched a little as she reached out, stilling when she only looped her arms around his neck. Dumbfounded, he stood stock still as she rose onto her tippy toes and pressed her lips against his. Her whole body was pressed against his, soft and warm, something that Dean had only imagined when he was alone at night. Now that she was here, lips plump and sweet against his, he forgot where he was and let himself enjoy the moment.

“Surprised?” Y/N murmured against his lips, her breath warm against his. 

He nodded dumbly, eyes still shut. She chuckled, letting her fingers play with the hair at the base of his head, nails raking across his scalp deliciously. 

“Didn’t think I’d pull one over you, huh?” She continued softly, lips brushing against his, “Jared helped. I wanted to surprise you; big anniversary and all.”

“Uh huh.” He hummed, eyes still closed contently until he realised that something about that sentence didn’t sound right. Actually a lot of it didn’t sound right. 

Anniversary.

Jared.

Who the fuck was Jared?

Why was Y/N being so nice to him? Why was she kissing him?

The pit that formed in his stomach was nothing he’d ever felt before. This wasn’t Y/N; at least, not the Y/N from his world. This version of her smiled brightly, didn’t carry the same weight that the Y/N he knew did from years of hunting. While his Y/N would’ve bitten his head off by now, this one was pleased to see him, had only love and happiness in her eyes for him. 

That only made it worse.

Coming to his senses, he jerked away from Y/N and backed away shaking his head. She blinked, head tilted to the side, eyes worried. Dean wasn’t sure he could handle this alone. He needed to tell someone, if only for his own peace of mind. He didn’t even care if he sounded crazy. 

“I need to tell you something.” He said solemnly, “I’m not who you think I am. I’m…”

But instead of his big revelation, Y/N rolled her eyes and interrupted with equal amounts of sass and playfulness, “Dean? Really babe? I thought we said agreed no more role play?” 

Dean ran his hands through his hair, teeth clenched, “No, I’m serious. I’m Dean; actually Dean Winchester. I don’t know how but somehow I’ve ended up in a…in a different dimension or….are you crying?”

Turns out she wasn’t crying. Y/N was holding her breath to keep her giggles quiet until finally she couldn’t hold them any longer. Her laughter was light and carefree, eyes shining with mirth. She shook her head and crossed the small distance, not noticing how Dean flinched back as she leaned up to press a kiss on his cheek. 

“I love you, ya big dork,” She said fondly, rubbing a hand up his arm. “I’ll let you get changed and meet you at the car.”

Dean watched as she sauntered from the trailer, everything about her clothes to the way she moved was so different from the Y/N he knew. There was so much love in her eyes for the man she believed him to be that Dean couldn’t help but feel jealous of Jensen. 

Whoever he was, he was one lucky son of a bitch.

 

Jensen closed his eyes as the end of scene dictated, expecting a bell to ring or maybe an end scene. When none came, he opened his eyes and sat up, confused. In the few moments he’d had his eyes shut, they’d changed set, put up the walls of Dean’s room. Usually there were cameras around the room, people mulling in and out but it was deadly silent.

He sat up slowly. His whole body ached and not from a day’s work. This was different. This was the kind of ache he used to get after training for hours for a marathon or Tough Mudder. It was as if he’d been thrown at several walls and then run over by a truck several times.

Grunting, he stood and hobbled to the door. The long hallway left him only more confused; it was exactly how the set looked on screen, something that he only saw when he watched an episode himself. He glanced down both ends internally debating which way he should go. The library would be the best bet; that was the next scene they had to film. 

As he walked down the corridor, he shivered. The usual warmth of set was gone; the harsh lights burning down to ensure perfect lighting was strangely absent and Jensen was frantically racking his brain for any mention of a set problem or change. He was beginning to wonder if this was a prank created by Misha but dismissed it; it was far too elaborate for a mere prank.

The library was lit with warm lights but it was noticeably dimmer than usual. Jensen had been in this room hundreds of times now. He was used to seeing the props across the wall and the ‘books’ that were stored in the shelves. There was something distinctly different, though he was having a hard time putting his finger on it.

At the end of the table was Jared. He was stretched out, feet on the chair opposite, book in hand. He was focused, a small dent between his eyes that only came when he was discussing something he wanted to change with a scene. Not to mention he was still, too still. Jensen couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him sit so still on set when he wasn’t in a scene.

“Hey, man, what’s going on?” Jensen asked, resting his arms on the back of a chair.

Jared didn’t look up at him, “Hmm?”

“What’s going on? Where is everyone?”

“Who? Cas? He’s…somewhere.” Jared muttered, eyes still plastered to the book in his hands.

Jensen sighed irritably, “Dude, come on. I’m fucking tired, okay? If this is some stupid prank I’m gonna be pissed. Y/N’s waiting for me at home and it’s our anniversary. She’ll kill me if I’m late, you know she will.”

Jared finally looked up with a frown, “What the hell are you talking about? Y/N’s in her room.” He jerked his chin towards the hallway.

“Hilarious.” He deadpanned. “I thought you and Gen had a thing tonight? Aren’t her folks looking after the boys?”

“Who’s Gen?” He was really sitting up straighter now, eyes narrowed. “Dean, are you ok?”

He rolled his eyes, “C’mon man, it’s too late for the brother jokes. What’s the go? Are we doing another take? And what the fuck has happened to the set?”

Jared was on his feet and in front of him in the blink of an eye. Jensen backed up, thrown by the intense look on his friend’s face.

“Who are you?” He demanded, fingers curling into fists. “Where’s Dean?”

“Jared, come on, this isn’t funny.” He held his hand up, “It’s me, Jensen. Did you take a hit no one told me about?”

“My name is Sam. I don’t know what you’re talking about but if you don’t explain what the hell you’re doing hitching a ride in my brother, I’m gonna start shooting.” Jared threatened, fingers reaching across the table to the handgun casually sitting there.

Jared was a big dude, but Jensen had never felt worried about that until now. Now, the look he was on the receiving end of was making him more than a little nervous. It was the look they both reserved for on screen, when their characters were threatening someone and it was one he was not accustomed to seeing directed at him.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” He insisted, backing away slowly. “Jared - Sam,” he corrected hastily as his eyes narrowed into slits, “I’m gonna make some calls, get someone from medical down here, alright man?”

Before he could take a step, a large hand gripped his shoulder and shoved him down. He crashed down onto the table, a hand pressing his arm behind his back.

“Who are you?” Jared snarled.

“It’s me; Jensen! Jared, what the hell is going on?” He grunted, face twisting into a grimace at the pain shooting up his arm. 

“What are you doing in my brother?” 

“Oh for - I’m not in anyone! This is my body, you fucking asshole!” He snapped. 

“Sam? What’s going on?”

Jensen knew that voice. He jerked his head up as much as the position would allow and just managed to catch a glimpse of Y/N’s confused face. 

“Oh thank god. Y/N, babe, Jared’s gone fucking nuts. You need to get someone down here now.”

Instead of reacting with panic or some sign of worry, Y/N narrowed her eyes and shifted her eyes away from his.

“Demon?” She asked coolly striding around the table.

“Dunno. He keeps calling himself Jensen, and me Jared.” 

“Demon shouldn’t be able to get in here.” Y/N corrected herself. “And it doesn’t explain why he’s calling you Jared.”

“Maybe we should call Cas.” Jared murmured.

“Sit him up.”

He grunted as he was roughly pulled off the table and upright. He shoved Jared away from him and glared at the two of them.

“This is not funny. What the fuck is wrong with you two?” He bellowed, face red, well past his breaking point. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked coldly.

He stared at his wife so unused to the harsh look on her face, especially directed towards him. He swallowed deeply, finally realising for the first time that maybe this wasn’t a prank; maybe he was the one in the wrong.

“I have no idea what’s going on.” Jensen said slowly, eyes flickering between the two of them. “I-I just…if this is a joke…”

“It’s not.” Jared interrupted him firmly. “I’m Sam and this is Y/N. You’re currently wearing the face of my brother and I want to know why. Now.”

“Oh fuck.” Jensen breathed, blood rushing from his face. “Seriously? You’re- you’re Sam? You’re shitting me, right? Oh fuck. This is…this is not good.” 

Jensen had always readily admitted that he’d be absolutely useless if he were ever to wake up as Dean. This was some kind of sick nightmare, it had to be. There was no way this was possible.

Shakily, he reached out behind him until he felt the arm of the chair and lowered himself down. He was staring at the two people in front of him, trying to catch them sharing a laugh; maybe then would they tell him this was just a joke. 

They stared coldly back at him.

Jensen realised he was going to have to explain to these two…strangers how he knew who they were, knew everything about their lives. It wasn’t going to be a particularly pleasant conversation. He sucked in a breath, closed his eyes and frantically wished that this were just a dream. When he opened them again, the same sight was still before him.

He sighed.

“My name is Jensen Ackles, and I think I’m from a different dimension.”


	2. Part 2

Warnings: canon level violence, swearing, confusion, mixed identity, small fluff if you squint. 

A/N: it’s finally here - the next part! Thank you for your patience. I didn’t realise how hard it would be writing this but I’m certainly enjoying the challenge of it. It’s the first time I’ve written something like this so we’ll see how it goes. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Neither of them had moved. It was eerie. They sat stock still throughout his explanation, faces blank, Jared - no, Sam - drumming his fingers on the table. Jensen couldn’t help but squirm. All of this was just too…bizarre. Jared - his Jared - would’ve cracked a joke by now, at the very least would’ve gotten up to pace. Y/N had never sat so stiff and so far away. Even when she was angry wit him there was never so much distance nor would she be so emotionless. His Y/N would furrow her brows, set her lips in a straight line and there would no doubt be a flare of nostrils. 

They were supposed to be the two closest people to him and he couldn’t recognise them. 

“What are we gonna…” Jensen started but Y/N spoke right over him.

“The witch?” She glanced at Jared - Sam.

His mouth was set in a grim line, “Must be.”

“You think Cas’ll be any help?” 

“Possibly but he’s got his own issues to deal with.” Sam sighed.

Sensing a pause, Jensen jumped in quickly before one of them could fill it, “So what are we gonna do?”

Y/N scoffed, “We? We,” She waved a finger lazily at her and Sam, “will take care of this and you are gonna stay out of the way.”

“I can help!” Jensen retorted defensively, hating the heat spreading across cheeks. 

“Oh please,” She rolled her eyes. 

Sam cocked his head to the side, “Look, I’m sure you are very…capable, but I think it’d be better if Y/N and I took care of it.”

Jensen grit his teeth knowing that his anger wouldn't help his case. “There's got to be something I can do to help.”

Y/N smiled sweetly, “Yeah sit there and look pretty.”

Without another word she roughly pushes her chair back and disappears down the hall oblivious to Jensen’s mournful gaze. If only she knew just how devastating those words were to Jensen. His Y/N was his biggest supporter, always had faith in him even when he doubted himself. This version of her was cold and distrustful, wielding words like a weapon. Y/N may share his wife's face and voice but it was beyond obvious that they were nothing alike. His Y/N knew just how hard he worked to be known as more than just a pretty face.

“You know her, don’t you?”

Jensen cast his gaze back to Sam tiredly, “What?”

Sam jutted his chin after Y/N, “I mean, she’s not the same obviously but…who is she in your world? To you?”

He considered dismissing the question and retreating to his room but he figured that only worked with the real Dean. He sighed, “My wife.”

“Wait, seriously?” Sam sat up straighter, “And you’re only just saying something now?”

“You mean now that neither of you are trying to kill me?” Jensen retorted sarcastically.

“It didn’t occur to you that this might be part of the spell?”

Jensen threw his hands in the air exasperated, “I dunno man; I’m not actually a hunter, y’know? You two seem to think that acting as one isn’t enough, so what do I know?”

“Obviously we’re right.” Sam muttered, pushing to his feet and disappearing down the hallway.

Jensen had always loved the Men of Letters set. There was just something about it that screamed Winchesters. But the awe of being in the library, the actual Men of Letters library, was lost on Jensen after the talk with Sam and Y/N. 

It wasn’t so much a shot to the ego as it was hurt that they didn’t trust him to help. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. He knew Sam just as well as he knew Dean. And Y/N…

It was too painful to think of Y/N. This world’s Y/N had the same beauty and sass that his wife did only there was more too, a heaviness she carried that he’d never seen before. Jensen didn’t want to think what tragedy had sucked her into the world of supernatural. If there was one thing he did know it was that every Hunter had a backstory. 

Jensen slumped in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. Despite his claims that he could be of use, he didn’t know where to start. He’d tried desperately to think of how the script played out in case something could help but kept coming up blank. He’d never been so frustrated with himself before. If he were honest with himself, he just wanted to prove to Y/N that he wasn’t just the pretty face she assumed he was. 

Jensen rubbed a hand over his forehead. God, he hoped Dean was having more luck in his world than he was in his. 

 

Luck was definitely not on Dean’s side. In fact, he felt anything but lucky. This was all too strange, a mocking view of a life he might have led if things had been different. He was stiff as a board the whole drive ‘home’, this world’s Y/N content with watching the scenery pass silently, her head on his shoulder. If she noticed his tension, she didn’t comment on it.

He was grateful for the silence. His mind was loud enough as it was, frantically trying to piece together the jumbled words the witch had thrown at him before he’d shot her between the eyes. But he hadn’t been paying attention and now he was living some alternate reality, familiar faces turned strangers. 

Maybe that was the curse. For Dean to live the rest of his life surrounded by people who didn’t really know him. Forced to live a different kind of lie. It would be just like a witch to come up with something that would drive him mad. Forced to stare at his brother’s face when it wasn’t his brother; live a life with a woman who he’d never had the balls to admit his feelings for, accept that her love was for a completely different man. Walk around with his face knowing that it wasn’t his life. 

No, this was the worst kind of torture.

The car came to a stop outside a tall apartment building. They were somewhere in the heart of Vancouver, the air chilly and streets noisy. God he missed the Impala. He’d take the cramped leather seats and smell of gunpowder over this any day. He missed the Bunker and his room, the library. He missed his brother.

“You okay?”

A hand fell on his arm and he brought his gaze up to Y/N’s. Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed tight together; he recognised the telltale signs of concern. Dean just wasn’t used to seeing it directed at him. 

He forced a smile, “Fine. Lets, uh, go up?”

She stared at him oddly. Dean wondered what this ‘Jensen’ was like with her. Did he hold her hand? Was he one of those men constantly touching their partner, making sure everyone knew she was with him? Was he loud and obnoxious? Did he make her laugh until she cried? Smile until her cheeks hurt? 

Y/N drew her eyes away but it wasn’t enough for Dean to relax. He inhaled sharply before following her out of the car, the frosty air slapping him across the face. He grit his teeth and hurried to Y/N’s side. Her hand slid into his, small and warm, fingers linked as if they had done this thousands of times before. For a moment Dean allowed himself to pretend that it was his Y/N, the one who snapped and fought with him every chance she got, sliding her hand into his, comforting him. Just a moment before he was ripped back into reality as the security guard at the elevators nodded to them, the name ‘Ackles’ falling from his lips as he greeted them. 

A knife to the heart would have hurt less. 

“Oh, Gen asked us if we could babysit this weekend.” Y/N turned to him after she clicked number 5. 

Dean felt the panic stirring in his chest again. Who the hell was Gen? It was the second time he’d heard the name. He wondered if this ‘Gen’ was someone else he knew from his world or if she would be a stranger. He sincerely hoped it was a stranger. Dean wasn’t sure he could handle many more surprises. 

“Sure, sure. That, ah, yeah, should be good.” He mumbled, eyes drifting up to watch as the levels change.

Y/N snorted, “It’s just for a few hours. There’s two of us and one of them.” The elevator dinged softly, the doors gliding open, “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

He followed her out, eyes casting a glance down each length of the hallway. “Uh, sure.”

Y/N was rummaging through her purse, too busy to notice how he tracked down the cameras scattered down the hall or the two exits at each end. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t bugged me about it yet.” Y/N said casually as she pushed open the door and walked in without a glance back at him.

Dean grit his teeth, face screwing up as he tried to keep up with the rouse he was forced to maintain, “Uh, didn’t want to bother you?”

She laughed at that, “Sure you didn’t.” She pointed a finger at him mock sternly, “I’m onto you, mister. You’re gonna have to wait until after dinner.”

He swallowed, hating how his heart hammered at the sight of her. He nodded dumbly, entranced as she kicked off her shoes and pulled her hair free of the band keeping it up. It was like some corny movie, that moment when the shy girl lets down her hair and the male lead realises he’s in love with her. Only Dean has known he was in love with Y/N - his Y/N - for years. It was safer to let her hate him not that she showed any signs to being remotely interested in being in his presence. 

She glanced over her shoulder at him, eyebrows knitting together despite the affectionate smile tugging at her lips, “You coming in?”

“Uh, yeah. Right.” Dean hastily shut the door, flicking the lock after a moment. When he turned back she was still staring at him. “What?”

“Seriously, are you okay?” She straightened and came closer, a hand reaching out and settling on his chest without hesitation. 

“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” He swallowed, heart hammering. God he hoped she couldn’t feel it. 

Her lips quirked, “Well I usually get some sort of sexual innuendo whenever I tell you to come in.”

Those words shouldn’t have sent a spark to his dick but it was killing him not to let it get to his head, both figuratively and literally. 

“Long day.” Dean grunted instead.

At some point you’d moved your hand from his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck. Dean had hardly realised he’d settled his hands on your hips or that he was leaning down as you rose up. The first touch of your lips made his eyes roll into the back of his head. For once he didn’t need to pretend that the person he was kissing was Y/N; technically it was her, just a different version. She still smelt the same, sounded the same. Surely she’d taste the same. Right? 

His arms tightened around her pulling until her body was flush against his. She giggled, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I thought we were gonna have dinner?” Y/N finally pulled back, her lips swollen and eyes heavy. 

Dean chased her lips, “Mmm, later.”

She laughed, bumping her nose against his, “I thought you were tired.”

“I don’t remember saying that.” 

Despite how easy it’d be to lead her back to whichever room had a bed and let things run its natural course, all Dean wanted in that moment was to savour the feel of her in his arms. Her body fit perfectly against his, soft and warm. Even when they finally pulled apart breathless, chests heaving and lips swollen, Dean was content to just hold her. 

“D’ya think we can take this away from the front door?” Y/N asked after a few minutes, her voice muffled.

Dean tensed, realising that he had let himself get swept away in the moment. Hastily he released Y/N averting his eyes until a soft hand cupped his cheek. Y/N was staring at him tenderly, lips parted ever so slightly, tiny crinkles in the corners of her eyes. She took his breath away when she was covered in demon blood and dirt but this, this was an image he’d store in his memory. 

“I love you.” 

The words, even if they were meant for his doppelgänger, wrapped around him like a blanket. Swallowing tightly, Dean didn’t stop himself from tilting his head to press a soft kiss to the palm of her hand. 

“I love you.” His voice was deeper than normal, gruff.

She sucked in a breath, “Maybe we should skip dinner.”

Dean would like nothing more than to take her to the bedroom and worship her body like he’d been craving for years. A smile was spreading across his face, lips nearing hers once again when something caught his eye. 

It was a framed photo. There was nothing fancy about the frame itself, a simple black that contrasted nicely with the white walls. No, it was the photo that captured him. The couple frozen in time weren’t looking into the camera; they were staring into each other’s eyes, a ridiculous smile on their face. Y/N was in a stunning wedding dress and Dean…

A knot tightened around his stomach. That wasn’t Dean in the photo. That wasn’t Dean in the crisp tuxedo, eyes forever shining their love for the woman before him. It wasn’t Dean who was on the receiving end of her adoration. This wasn’t a memory of his life; it was Jensen’s. Dean was an imposter and while he might be fooling the woman before him, there was no fooling himself. 

Carefully he disentangled himself, heart aching in his chest. If Y/N was hurt by his rejection it didn’t show. Her lips formed a pout but the teasing glint in her eyes soothed the worry that he’d hurt her.

“I see how it is. You just married me for my cooking, didn’t you?” She sighed dramatically. 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry sweetheart. Been a long day.”

Y/N squeezed his hand gently, “C’mon then. We’ll save the anniversary sex for later.” She winked at him and smacked his bum cheekily before spinning on her heel.

The comment was innocent between a man and wife. To Dean, it was just another painful reminder of what he couldn’t have. 

God, he hoped Jensen was having more luck in his world than Dean was in his.


End file.
